


Promises of Spring

by ATTHS_TWICE



Series: A Year of Prompts [6]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Birds, Birdwatching, Christmas Presents, Depression, Drinking, Egg Laying, F/M, Future, Happy, Memories, Post-Episode: s10e05 Babylon, Relationship Discussions, Sad, Spring, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATTHS_TWICE/pseuds/ATTHS_TWICE
Summary: After Babylon, Scully and Mulder have a roundabout discussion about their relationship, as memories of the past intertwine with the present.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: A Year of Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090493
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	Promises of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> I have been seeing A LOT of gifs on Twitter from the end of Babylon and it prompted me to wonder about the birdhouse that is hanging from the porch. Why is it there? How long has it been there? I had to know, to create a reason as to why and this is what I believe could be the reason. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. ❤️

_April 2016_

Scully stood waiting while Mulder went inside to get them something to drink. She smiled, somewhat sadly, as she looked around the familiar porch, at the chairs sitting in the same place as the last time she had visited. 

Letting out a breath, her eyes landed on the small wooden birdhouse hanging from a hook. Closing her eyes, she shook her head as she heard the screen creak open. 

“Here you go.” 

She opened her eyes and turned to take the beer he was handing to her. 

“Thanks.” 

“Hmm.” 

He smiled as he tipped his bottle and the mouth of it clinked against hers. She smiled back, but did not quite feel it. He took a drink and she watched his throat as he swallowed, wishing she could kiss that skin that tasted so sweet. 

“How’s your injury?” she asked, nodding to his neck. He shrugged and sighed. 

“Do you want to take a look?” 

“Do you want me to?” she countered and his mouth twitched. He tugged at his shirt and bent closer to her, allowing her better access to see it. “Hmm. Looks like angry hickeys.” She looked at him pointedly and he shook his head as he let go of his shirt. 

“No. That’s definitely not what it is,” he assured her, staring into her eyes. 

“I know. But 50 shades of bad?” she asked and his eyes widened. “Yeah. She told me.” He shook his head and she smiled slowly. 

“I didn’t… it wasn’t something I planned.” 

“I know that too.” She took a drink of her beer and raised an eyebrow at him. “You should put something on it, help with the sting and scarring.” 

“I thought chicks dig scars?” 

_“Chicks?_ Are you trying to impress someone? A bird perhaps?” 

“No. And definitely not a bird,” he said with a chuckle. 

“You sure?” She glanced at the birdhouse hanging from the porch beam and then back at him. He sighed as he looked and then dropped his head. 

“Have you seen them again?” she asked quietly and he shook his head. “It’s still possible. Maybe…” He raised his head and she smiled softly at the look in his eyes, feeling like she had gone back in time. 

Six years ago, she had brought home a birdhouse in a Secret Santa exchange party at the hospital. It had been a _looking forward to spring!_ gift: a large brown bag inside which was a log cabin styled birdhouse, flower seeds, a trowel, gardening gloves and a small watering can with a daisy shaped spout. 

She had thanked Doctor Hahn, but knew that she would most likely not use any of the items. She herself had purchased a nice bottle of wine and decanter for Doctor Kent, quite nearly forgetting she had to buy a gift at all. 

Coming home, she had set the bag on the table and laid her coat on a chair. She could hear Mulder upstairs, the floorboards creaking. Within seconds, he had thundered down the stairs, dressed and ready to go to her mothers for her annual Christmas party. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he had said, pulling her close and kissing her. “How was your day?” 

“Long,” she had replied, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. “God, you smell good.” He had laughed and rocked them back and forth, humming a Christmas tune. 

“Go get changed. I’ll wait down here. Get the gifts in the car.” 

“Sure you don’t want to come upstairs with me?” she had asked, raising her eyebrows as she took off her shoes and dropped them beside the stairs. 

“I’m ready to go and if I come upstairs with you… we will be late and your mother will be angry with me.” 

“God forbid,” she had scoffed and he nodded with a serious expression. “Fine, I’ll go upstairs.” She started and stopped after a couple of steps. “Alone.” 

“Scully,” he had warned and she laughed, continuing on her way. 

A quick shower, dressed, makeup reapplied and her hair in a low messy bun, she had grabbed her shoes and gone downstairs. Putting her coat and shoes on, Mulder had held the door open as they left. 

Three hours later, she had woken abruptly as they pulled up to the house. Mulder had smiled and with an arm around her waist, he had helped her inside. Taking off her shoes, he had guided her up the stairs and helped her undress and taken down her hair. 

“I can do it myself,” she had said tiredly even as she had lifted her arms for the long sleeved shirt he offered her. 

“I know you can,” he had said with a chuckle. “I also know you worked a long shift, had a quick party there, drove home, and then went to another party. With Bill in attendance.” She had exhaled a small laugh and swayed on her feet as the shirt had gone over her head. 

“Come on.” He had led her to the bed, pulling the covers back and she laid down, closing her eyes as he had covered her up. “I’ll be right back. Gotta get the gifts and the leftovers out of the car.” He had kissed her and she hummed. 

Exhausted, she had not woken when he had come back to bed. 

The scent of coffee had woken her the next morning and she came down the stairs, yawning sleepily. A mug was placed in front of her as she sat at the table. She hummed, her eyes closing as she breathed in the heavenly aroma of coffee, and Mulder chuckled. 

Breakfast was pumpkin pie and fudge, Mulder winking as he had served it to her and she laughed. Grabbing his arm and halting his steps, she had smiled as he bent his head and kissed her. 

“So whaddya get?” he had asked, gesturing to the bag from Doctor Hahn. 

“A happy package.” 

“What… what _kind_ of happy?” he had asked, confusion on his face and she laughed, standing up to show him what was inside the bag. 

“Ohhh… more of a “better days ahead than the cold winter.” My mind went in a completely different direction.” She had looked at him and he pumped his eyebrows at her. 

“Not that kind of gift exchange.” 

“Too bad…” He had winked and she shook her head with a smile. “But I like that. Doctor Hahn… have I met him… her?” 

“Her. And I’m not sure. I doubt I’ll ever use them, but it’s a nice thought.” She had started to put it away and he stopped her, picking up the birdhouse and taking it out to the porch, and she followed. 

“There, at least we’ll have something of it used.” He had hung it on a hook and she nodded. 

“A bit early though.” 

“Then the birds will have time to scope it out.” Laughing, she had wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at the birdhouse as he rubbed her back. 

Winter had continued, the birdhouse hanging through wind, snow, and rain. When spring had arrived, to Scully’s surprise, Mulder planted the flower seeds in six colorful pots he had purchased at a nursery. She had smiled when she arrived home, the pots a welcome bright spot on a gray day. 

They had sprouted, but no birds made a home in the birdhouse that spring. Mulder had not been deterred and he looked into how to attract birds to the yard. He had been very into it- buying bird feeders, food, and extra sunflower seeds, trying to tempt birds. They had come to eat, but not until the following March, had a pair of birds made a nest in the birdhouse. 

He had watched them every day, making Scully go around the back to leave, so as not to disturb them. She had rolled her eyes and grumbled, but always with a smile, happy he found a positive outlet for his obsessive nature. 

Her phone would buzz in her pocket, with pictures of the birds that had been taken through the screen, appearing in her messages along with updates. 

_I think she’s laying eggs, or getting ready, I don’t see her leaving the house anymore._

_You two have that in common,_ she had texted back. _Well, aside from the laying eggs bit._

 _Hilarious you are,_ came his reply and she had smiled. 

That day she had come home to many brightly colored plastic Easter eggs, hidden around the house, and Mulder grinning like a fool. 

The bird, a tufted titmouse, which he had smirked at the first time saying it, had laid three eggs, which he had seen when she had flown away and he had stood on a stepstool to quickly observe. 

_Three eggs, Scully. What shall we name them?_

_One, two, and three?_ She had typed back, standing in the hospital locker room, smiling and awaiting his response. 

_There’s that humor I love so much._

_Not good enough?_

_I was thinking… Huey, Dewey, and Louie._

_Except those are ducks, not titmice._

_Hmm… you wrote tit._

She had laughed and licked her lips, as she had walked to the sink to wash her hands. 

_And if one of them is a girl?_ She had asked, standing by the sink. 

_Cross that bridge later. The names have been entered into the log._

She had shaken her head and slipped her phone into her pocket, washing her hands and muttering the names under her breath. 

When the birds had hatched, it seemed a near constant chirping was heard from the nest; the triplets crying for their next meal. 

_I saw one today!! Wasn’t ready or I’d have snapped a picture. On high alert now. I’ll keep you posted._

She had smiled, hurrying to a meeting and had no time to answer. 

When she had come home, he had spoken quickly, telling her about the birds, showing her pictures of them, some blurry and some crisp. It had felt like the old days, when he was excited about a case and she had laughed as she listened to him, finding the joy in his happiness. 

When the last bird had left the nest however, there had been sadness, his days no longer filled in the same way. The flowers had been replanted, though the color of the pots had faded somewhat. He had refilled the bird feeders, hoping to entice them back for next year, but then… the possibility of the world ending occupied his attention and she had started to lose him. 

One late winter day, she had come home to find the bird feeders gone and the birdhouse down from the hook on the porch. Sighing, she had paused with her hand on the door, shaking her head sadly, knowing what she would find inside. 

Mulder had been in his office, the door partially shut, the printer whirring away as he tapped quickly on the computer’s keyboard. She sighed again as she had stared at him, at the drastic change from the excited man of last year, to the man who sat before her. 

“What’s up, Doc?” he had said, his voice different than the last time he had said it, low and as though he had not spoken all day. She had shaken her head as she walked into the room. 

“What happened to the bird feeders? The birdhouse?” His back had stiffened and she heard him sigh deeply. 

“I took them down.” 

“I saw that, Mulder. That’s why I’m-”

“There’s no point. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Why would you-”

“Because it’s the truth. It doesn’t matter.” 

She had stood there, waiting for what she did not know, but he had not turned around, would not face her. Shaking her head, she had drawn in a silent breath, closing the door quietly behind her. 

The shower had been the only witness to her tears that night, her heart beginning to break. 

She sighed as she stared at him now, the beer in her hand cold and wet with condensation as the past faded away, though the pain remained. Buried deep, like the seeds of the flowers he had carefully planted so long ago. She tried not to let it show as she smiled at him, hoping it did not look as awkward as she felt it did. 

“It’s too late,” he said softly, attempting a smile as shook his head and glanced at the birdhouse. “I don’t even know why I bought it really. It just…” He shrugged and looked back at her. “It’s always best to try, right?” 

She held his gaze and heard the double meaning in his question. Well, triple if she was honest with herself. She nodded and he sat down, while she leaned against the railing, feeling as though she was still balancing between the past and the present. 

“You should get new feeders. Start from scratch. Follow the same plan as before.” 

“And what if it doesn’t work?” he asked softly, the beer bottle resting on his knee as he stared at it. 

“Well, it worked before. Who’s to say those birds haven’t flown past many times, remembering their home here, wishing they could come back?” His head shot up and her heart stood still as she realized what she had said. “I mean-”

“And perhaps they see this house here… the same, but a little different.” He continued her narrative, nodding toward the birdhouse and she exhaled, not taking her eyes off of him. 

“You said they mated for life, right?” He nodded, his eyes staring intently at her. “Then, maybe they’ve been waiting for the right time to come back but… it wasn’t an option just yet.” She watched him breathe, his chest rising and falling. 

“It’s too late in the season. I was late. I didn’t think…” 

“But you are now,” she said quietly and he nodded slowly as he exhaled a quiet breath. “That’s all you can do, I suppose.” 

“Just think? No actions to be taken?” 

“There are always actions to take,” she nearly whispered and he nodded slightly. 

“What would you suggest?” 

She stared at him, at the man she loved so very much, but who had also broken her heart. No… that was not fair. They had hurt each other. Neither of them was completely guilty, but nor were they innocent. They had both gotten to this point together, and they were slowly repairing the giant explosion that had ripped them apart. 

She cleared her throat and glanced down at the bottle of beer in her hand. It was still nearly full and she knew if she tried to take a sip now, she would choke on it, unable to swallow past the lump in her throat. Taking a breath she looked back up at him. 

“Patience. That’s always good,” she whispered and he nodded slightly. “Making… finding… Christ.” She laughed bitterly as she felt tears stinging her eyes and she looked down, hoping to blink them away. He was quiet, thankfully, and she was able to get a hold of her emotions. 

“I could put out flowers. Don’t know if those seeds from years ago are still good, but I could try. See if I could resurrect the past.” She nodded and took a deep breath. “Or like you said, I could start from scratch. Create a new beginning.” She lifted her head and stared at him again. 

“Or… you could reconcile the two,” she said, echoing his words, bringing their conversation back to where it had been earlier. 

“Hmm,” he hummed with a nod. “That might be the way forward.” 

“I think it just might be.” He nodded again and she smiled, glancing down at her beer before raising it and taking a drink. Licking her lips, she held it in her lap again, watching him as he drank his own. 

“You want to stay for dinner?” he asked and she raised her eyebrows, the direction of the conversation switching again, neutral ground found once more. 

“You have food here? Not just popcorn and snacks?” 

“We could order in,” he said after a pause and she knew she was right. She chuckled with a nod and then shrugged. 

“Or we could go out,” she suggested and he grinned, standing to his feet. 

“Garelli’s?” 

“Ohh… yeah. That sounds delicious.” She pushed away from the railing and he reached for her beer which she happily handed over, her mind already on the garlic breadsticks and marinara sauce. 

He took their bottles inside and came out carrying a lightweight jacket, locking the door behind him. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah.” She took her keys from her pocket and smiled as they walked down the stairs and to her car. 

Backing up, she glanced at the birdhouse once more, before heading down the driveway. Pausing at the end, she looked at him and he smiled, offering her his hand. She took it as she turned right, the simple act achingly familiar. 

He hummed a tune that sounded like a song she had heard recently and she smiled as his thumb rubbed her hand softly. She sighed contentedly and heard him do the same as he squeezed gently. She closed her eyes briefly, and thought of birdhouses, spring flowers, and listening, truly listening. 

Suddenly realizing she _did_ know the song he was humming, she began to hum with him, her heart feeling lighter than it had of late. She squeezed his hand and smiled as she hummed, hearing the words in her head, a truth that could not be denied, even if the path was a little uncertain at the moment. 

_I belong with you, you belong with me,_  
_You’re my sweetheart..._


End file.
